Found in the Dog’s Mouth
So, here we are again. Me, with a completely different and completely new story that I may or may not finish or continue, and you, someone who I, somehow, managed to sucker into reading this nonsense.
Anyways.... When you reach into your local Cerberus facility you may find a boy and friend.
A Cerberus base. It just has to be a Cerberus base, because when it comes to barely legal technology and AI development and containment, look to the humans to ignore the rules. Of course, now that there’s a whole, multi-species, multi-billion credit project being set up that’s reliant on a handful of AIs to lead the way, there’s now a need for computers and tech specifically designed to maintain and manage AI and their processes. And now, here Drack is, stalking through a recently plasma-burned hallway, in the middle of a Cerberus lab, trying not to trip on the occasional human carcass strewn across the floor.
He grunts and is glad that they haven’t developed a smell, yet, but that means whoever did it, is still nearby. He stalks through the halls, towards where he assumed was the main lab, judging by where the signs, which were now blasted beyond recognition, were pointed. He pauses as he hears unfamiliar weapon fire coming from one of the halls. He increases his pace taking a position in a slightly curved hallway with a chokepoint on either side. The shots have been growing closer, and from where the sound has been coming, he realizes that the two ends of the hallway are connected to each other, through others. He grunts and curses to himself.
He sees the light of a plasma bolt and turns towards that entrance, his shotgun at the ready. He takes a knee in the hall, bracing for an onslaught, when, he hears a quick tapping approaching him from behind. From behind him, a small body comes sprinting through the hallway. They are glancing back at their pursuers as they enter the hallway, colliding into his back with an audible crack. He turns as they fall to the ground, about to shout something at, what he now sees is a young Quarian, when a bit more than a handful of Geth, in varying states of repair, or more disrepair, flood into the hallway, calling his attention away.
Thirteen shots, and the last Geth hits the ground, unmoving. Drack turns towards what hit him, about to either berate or threaten them, only to see a large crack across the Quarian kid’s visor. His first words to him shifts from some upset rant about watching where he was going to a quickly panicked, “Shit! Hold on!” as he bends down over them and brings up his omni-tool tapping at it a few times before bringing it over their visor.
The kid’s reaction was… less than calm. After laying on the ground, just staring at the crack on their visor while the shooting stopped, seeing the large hand and omni-tool come over their face brought them back to reality. They start lashing out, scooting themselves away and trying to push and slap his hands away. It took a bit of effort, but Drack managed to pin one of their wrists over their opposite shoulder as he brought his omni-tool to their visor, a nozzle-like beam touches the crack with a hiss, slowly closing the crack up.
To Drack’s relief, the kid stops struggling, watching the crack seal away until it looked as if it wasn’t there to begin with. He slowly lifts his arms away, waiting until they look up at him with their softly glowing eyes. Even with that glow, he sees nothing in the kid’s face, in their eyes. Not fear, not hope, not the faintest bit of curiosity, or confusion, just a blank stare. He reaches down and gently helps them to their feet before giving him a once-over. No signs of harm, and his suit, mostly white, with blood on his boots, gloves, and legs, but no noticeable punctures and no thin splashes or sprays of blood, implying that he simply walked through and over the mess of bodies without witnessing them die up close.
He hums thoughtfully and rights himself up with a groan and the audible popping of his old joints. He glances around, regaining his bearings and listening closely for any further threats. As he gives himself the all-clear, he hooks his shotgun to his back and turns, saying, “Stay close, kid. I don’t know if there’s any more of those things, but I’ll find you somewhere safe to hide out until we can get out of here.” He offers a free hand to the little Quarian, who simply stares at it. After what felt like an hour, but was really closer to a few seconds, of awkward silence and motionlessness, Drack leans down and takes the kid’s hand in his before beginning his return trip to his shuttle.
The return to his shuttle is a bit quicker than his trek into the facility, but it is interrupted, near the docking bays, when they come across exactly the computers and hardware Drack is there for, being carted away by some Turian. With a firm and frustrated growl, he picks up his pace and slips his hand out of the kid’s, you can’t be intimidating with a child on your arm. He squares his shoulders, or does as close as a Krogan can, and marches up to her with another growl, continuing in his gruff voice, “Now, where do you think you’re going with that tech?” This causes her pause, but her demeanor remains calm as she turns to face him.
She looks him up and down and tilts her weight casually towards her cart. She glances at the shotgun on his back before starting, “So, all that noise, just a minute ago, was you, huh? I don’t suppose the rest of it was, too?” She gestures vaguely towards the rest of the space station, referring to the humans, strewn about.
Drack turns his head slightly, glancing at the hallway that leads to the rest of the station, before returning his attention to her, replying simply, “Geth… a small group of ‘em. By the looks of it, I’d say that these Cerberus eggheads were trying to experiment on them and accidentally powered them back on,” he pauses and places one of his own hands on the cart, “Now look, AI can be a risky business, and this kind of tech could put a lot of unwanted attention on your head from a lot of unsavory people. What do you say, I do you a favor and lighten some of this load off your hands?”
“Now that is a very tempting offer… Uh…”
“Drack. Clan Nakmor.”
“Vetra,” she briefly gestures to herself, “That’s a tempting offer, Drack, but I’m going to have to decline. Besides, I’d say you have your hands pretty full already,” she leans to the side of his free hand to look behind him a bit, bringing his own attention to the kid, who, while he was talking, managed to slip their hand back into his own, and was staring at it. Drack, as he looks down, sees the kid draw his attention away from their hands, and up to him. He feels the cart being pulled from under his hand as the Turian concludes, “Well, I’m sure you’ve got a lot of time to get the kid back to wherever he belongs, so I’ll let you get back to it.” She quickly pulls the cart away and runs it through a door before he has a chance to stop her. As she exits into the loading bay, she shoots the door’s control panel, causing it to close and lock behind her.
Drack lets out a harrumph and looks around the corridor, as the kid simply stares after her. After glancing at the signs and familiar hall. He sighs and steps to the door’s control panel, “My shuttle is on the other side of this door…” He taps it a few times but shakes his head and leads the kid next to the panel, motioning for him to wait, “Hold here, kid. I’m going to try something.” He walks over to the other side of the hall as the kid idly taps at the control panel. After doing a few stretches, he braces himself up and breaks into a sprint towards the door, fully intending to ram himself straight through it. Once he gets to it, however, his head crashes through nothing as he passes straight through an open door. With his current momentum and disorientation, he continues before tripping on some loose cabling and stumbling right into a stack of crates.